


meet you at the divide

by obsessivelymoody



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, Time Travel, about time inspired au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 05:43:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20465969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivelymoody/pseuds/obsessivelymoody
Summary: Forced into attending a boring Halloween office party, Phil's past comes back to haunt him when a familiar man shows up.





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> One of my favourite movies of all time is About Time. It's a really sweet movie about time travel and relationships, and I could watch it over and over and never get bored. I knew that one day I would write something inspired by it, and this turned out to be it! This fic has held many forms since I started writing it in October of last year, but this is what fits the best and is the story I wanted to tell after all. I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> This was written for [phandomsummerfics](http://phandomsummerfics.tumblr.com/)!!
> 
> Massive thanks to [nihilismdan](http://nihilismdan.tumblr.com/) for holding my hand and telling me this wasn't bad after all <3

This must be the dullest Halloween office party Phil’s been to since he started working here four years ago. 

He didn’t even want to come to it in the first place. 

“C’mon Phil! It’ll be fun,” Jimmy had said earlier that day, one arm perched on his hip, the other planted on Phil’s desk. 

“Besides, you need to socialize with other people more.” He continued. Phil could feel his eyes bore into the side of his head. 

“I socialize plenty,” Phil huffed, leaning back in his chair and looking up at him. “I’m just an introvert.” 

“Well, Tom’s coming with better alcohol and a friend.”

The thought of seeing Tom, Jimmy’s partner who Phil would much rather make small talk with than any of his coworkers, almost convinced him. 

“A friend?” He questioned. “Is this all a ploy to get me to talk to someone new because I think I’ll pass.” 

Jimmy sighed. 

“I can’t force you, but just think about it alright? It won’t be too bad,” Phil began to protest before Jimmy held up a hand. “At least keep me company before Tom gets here? When he does it’ll be fine, I know it. We can stand in the corner, all three of us and Tom’s friend. You’ll like him, I think.” 

“Who, the friend?” 

“Mm, I met him once, and he seemed lovely.” Jimmy pauses, lips pursed. “Just consider it, yeah?” 

Phil leaned further back in his chair. 

“I’ll think about it.” He mumbled, giving in. 

Jimmy smiled, and Phil knew that he was already done thinking about it before he’d even started. He’d be going, reluctant feeling in his gut or not. 

Now he stands in a corner of the office clutching a cheap beer, far enough away from the crowd of mingling coworkers so he’s not in the midst of it, but not far enough so it looks like he’s purposefully trying to avoid any conversation. Shitty easy listening rock plays in the background from even shitter speakers on someone’s desk. Phil thinks that the party might be slightly less than unbearable if the music were any good. 

Jimmy emerges from the small crowd, looking down at his phone with the second beer he’d gone to grab in his other hand. 

“Looks like they’re going to be here any minute now,” He says when he reaches Phil, grinning. 

He feels a bit of tension release from his shoulders. It’ll be nice to actually have a desire to talk to more than one person in the room. 

And sure enough moments later, as he’s half listening to Jimmy telling him an inane story about a coworker who he’s not sure he’s even met, Phil watches Tom walk into the office, broadly gesturing as he talks to the tall, curly haired man who follows him in. 

A tall curly haired man who Phil recognizes instantly, despite not having seen him for almost four years. 

Despite all his efforts to push away the time they’d spent together. 

“Oh fuck,” Phil whispers. 

“There they are!” Jimmy exclaims, interrupting his own story. He waves them over, a huge smile on his face. 

Panic surges through Phil. He bounces his weight between his feet, breath hitching in his chest. 

“Toilet.” He blurts to Jimmy, setting his beer down and speed walking across the office with his head down. 

Jimmy calls after him, but he doesn’t look up, determined to get to the corridor where the loo is without Dan seeing him. 

He locks himself in a stall when he gets there—thankful for the lack of people in the washroom—and shuts his eyes. He slides down the stall door and onto the floor, trying to control his breathing. 

It’s hard. It’s hard to clear his head and to stop his chest from heaving and his heart from racing when his mind is flooded with memories he told himself were too good and too stupid to be true. 

Memories that he told himself to let go of, that he tried to convince himself that weren’t actually real. He thinks, as he always does when Dan comes to mind, that it might have worked if he hadn’t left the note, which sits folded into eight sections at the bottom of Phil’s sock drawer. 

He’s being ridiculous. He knows he is. He’s thirty-one, sat on the floor in the office’s bathroom, having a panic attack about a fling he had four years ago. He should be able to get up and calmly face the situation. Maybe even apologize to Dan, but he’s not entirely sure of the etiquette when seeing someone you confessed all your problems and worries to four years previous and never talked to again. 

“Phil?” 

Jimmy. 

Jimmy, who talked him into staying for the stupid work party in the first place.

Annoyance and frustration flare through his chest. Phil tries to push them away, knowing that it would be wrong to blame Jimmy for this. 

“What’s happened?” Phil hears him step closer to the stall, and moments later feels him drop down onto the floor beside him. They’re back-to-back, the toilet door between them, and Phil can feel Jimmy brush against him with every inhale.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but you’re clearly very upset,” Jimmy says when Phil doesn’t reply. “So what’s going on?”

His voice is soft, and Phil knows that he means what he’s saying. 

“It’s stupid,” Phil says finally. 

“Come off it, I doubt it.”

“It is, though. You’re going to laugh at me.” 

“I won’t. Promise.” 

There’s sincerity in his voice, and Phil thinks that Jimmy’s too kind to him.

“I know Tom’s friend.”

“Oh. Is that all?” Confusion colours his tone. 

Phil takes in a breath. A part of him wants him to tell Jimmy _yes, that’s all. I knew you’d think I was being an idiot_, and another part of him wants to continue, to tell Jimmy about one of the weirdest, scariest, best days of his life. 

“I had sex with him,” Phil says ineloquently, letting the latter part of him win.

“Oh. Bit awkward then?” A neon-lit bar and toothy, dimpled smiles flash in his mind. Then sunsets and sunrises, and the smell of the sea, so distinct and true to as it always is but still so _different_ in the moments his memories hold. 

“No, well yes, but—” Phil bites his lip, nerves bundling in his chest. “It was more than that. We had a thing. For a couple weeks. And I thought he might be _it_. It was...god, I sound so stupid, but it was like magic, Jim.” 

“What the fuck?” He feels him turn, and then a finger roughly poke his back. “Phil, what the _fuck_? Why are you telling me this while we’re sat on a floor covered in piss and shit? Why haven’t I heard about this before?”

“Never came up?” Phil offers weakly as Jimmy’s voice grows louder. 

“I call bullshit, when did this even happen?”

“Four years ago,” Phil says. He feels dizzy, and his chest is tight. Almost like he’s sharing a secret he shouldn’t be. 

“I—Phil, god,” Jimmy leans back against the door. “I thought you were going to say when you were like, twenty or something.”

“Sorry.” Phil says, because he doesn’t know what else to. 

“No, don’t apologize,” Jimmy’s voice is quiet again. “You just kind of dropped a bomb on me, mate.”

“Did you want to tell me more about it?” Jimmy asks after a moment. 

Does he? He thinks he probably should. It’s terrifying, and something he isn’t entirely sure he wants to revisit. But then again, would he have ever found the guts to push through the fear and think about it if Dan hadn’t walked back into his life? He thinks that maybe he should stop letting fear control him. 

“Okay,” Phil says, taking a deep breath.


	2. part two

“Phil? Could you come into my office please?” 

Dread bubbles in Phil’s stomach. He’s sure he knows what’s coming. It’s been looming over him for the past few weeks anyway. 

“Shut the door, please, and take a seat.” His boss, Lillian, says when he enters her office. 

He does as he’s told, taking a seat on one of the uncomfortable upholstered chairs. 

Lillian looks apologetic. He braces himself for what she’s about to say, recognizing the look after weeks of watching his coworkers be called into her office. 

“Let’s get right to it then, shall we?” Her voice is kind, sad even. Phil always thought she was kind, and he’s lucky to have had someone like her supervise him for the last four years. 

“I’m deeply sorry to inform you that we’re going to have to let you go,” She continues apologetically. 

“Yeah.” Phil says, looking down at the ugly grey carpet.

“I am sorry Phil,” She says. “You’ve always done your job wonderfully, but I can’t keep up with the cuts, and seniority overrules any personal choices I would make. I’d happily be a reference for you, put in a good word wherever you want to go next, if you’d like.” 

She’s nice. Nice when she doesn’t really have to be. Phil thinks he owes her the same kindness back, despite the noise fogging up his brain and making his chest tighten as a piece of the little life he’s built for himself comes crashing down around him. 

“Thank you,” He says, looking up at her with a tight smile. “I really appreciate the offer. I’ve enjoyed my time here, and I’m sorry to see it end, but it’s been a great experience for me.” 

He knows he sounds robotic, over-rehearsed. Lillian smiles anyway, the apology still written in her expression. 

“Do you have any questions, or…” She trails off as Phil shakes his head. 

“No.” _Enough people have been getting laid off for me to already know what’s going to happen_. 

“Do I—Do I have to stay for the rest of the day?” Phil continues, swallowing thickly. 

Lillian regards him for a moment, cocking her head to the side. 

“No,” She says eventually. “You can go home when you need to, Phil.” 

“Thank you,” He replies softly, getting up from the chair. 

When he leaves her office, a part of him just wants to grab his essentials, get in his car and wallow at home. A more rational part of him knows that wouldn’t be right, so instead he packs up his desk and gives all his coworkers, even Pete in sales who he absolutely cannot stand, proper goodbyes. 

He holds it in, pushing away the thoughts of impending doom, the whole car ride home. 

He hates the tears that prick behind his eyes and threaten to spill over as he enters his flat, dumping all his shit on the kitchen counter. 

Phil slumps onto the small loveseat in the sitting room attached to the kitchen. He’d flung the curtains open this morning before he left for work, letting in some light for his wilting plants.

It’s overcast in Manchester. A typical late spring day. Phil thinks he might have enjoyed it more if he weren’t sat alone in his flat trying to will away tears. 

Discomfort comes when they eventually spill over, and then anger. He doesn’t want to feel this way. Doesn’t want to let a job make him feel this way. 

It’s making him think about shit he doesn’t want to think about, shit that he pushed away so he could just get on with his life. 

He couldn’t deal with it then, and he certainly can’t deal with it now.

He thinks about Travelling back, to see where things actually went wrong, to maybe try and find another job that would keep him more long term than this one. 

But no. He doesn’t. He _can’t_. He’d feel awful about Travelling for something like this, and knows it would be a total betrayal of his morals. So instead he stretches out as much of his long legs as he can on the loveseat, trying to push the thoughts of Travelling and prickles of anxiety away. 

*

The first time Phil Travelled he had just turned twenty-one. 

He'd just woken up, ready to spend the morning tucked into breakfast from his mum before travelling back to York to continue his birthday celebration with his friends. 

Instead he'd spent the morning in his dad's office—a place he's always been told in all circumstances to keep out of—bracing himself for another talk about being "a man" only to be given a crash course on Travelling. 

"It's just this gene, I suppose," his dad said. "Runs in the family, always has. Everyone has it. Takes effect when you turn twenty-one and suddenly your whole world is being turned upside down." 

"Turned upside down." Phil echoed. 

"It's alright, Phil,” he put a hand on his shoulder consolingly. “Think of it like a—what’s it in those programs you like? Like a hidden power coming to light?”

Phil just laughed, feeling all too dizzy at the thought. 

“Now,” his dad said when he calmed down. “How would you like to try it out?” 

It’s not that Phil thought his dad was lying or succumbing to some kind of delusion, in fact he thinks quite the opposite of his dad. But when he tells him to find a small, dark space and stand with his legs hip-width apart, fists clenched at his side while he thinks about where he wants to Travel to, it took all his might to not laugh right in his face or run to get his mum. 

Phil decided to humour him, walking up to his room and climbing into his closet, standing just as his dad instructed. He thought of the previous night, of the moment right before Mum called him to dinner. His laptop was open on his bed to YouTube, Linkin Park playing quietly from the speakers. He’d been responding to a birthday text from Anja when she called him down to eat, and Martyn—who had come home for the occasion—knocked against his bedroom door right after, shouting at him to come on. 

He felt a strange pull in his belly, but that could be anything, really. At least, he thinks it could be anything until he heard _Crawling_ playing from his laptop. 

Phil stepped out of his closet, feeling like he’d got the wind knocked out of him as he sees the YouTube homepage just as he’d had it, and his mobile on his bed open to his conversation with Anja.

“No bloody way,” he whispered. 

“Boys!” His mum called, in the exact same way as she had the night before. “Dinner!” 

Phil counted the seconds—six in total—before Martyn knocked against his door. 

“Hurry up, Phil! C’mon!” 

“Holy shit,” he whispered. 

The entire night went exactly as he remembers it did, and he spent most of it in awe, completely shaken up by this new ability his dad decided to drop on him. 

Eventually he found a moment to step away and Travel back, running down to his dad’s office to meet his smirking face. 

“Told you.” He said. 

“I can’t _believe_ this. It’s like I’m in a film.” 

“Well, you’re not. But you can Travel. Only within your own timeline and memories.” 

Phil sat down. “Does Mum know?” 

“Funny that you’d think I could keep anything from your mother,” he laughed. 

“Right,” Phil said. “So...basically I can go back and fix any of the mistakes I’ve ever made? Like—like my own built in infinite do-over machine?” 

His dad considered this. “I suppose you could. Most of us use it for love, to fix some minor mistakes in relationships that might have gone astray. Some use it to visit people who have passed, others to get a promotion at work.”

“There’s all kinds of ways you can use this ability, Phil. I’d say it’s up to your own morals, where you think it fits best to Travel. I trust you to have good judgement.” 

Phil thought—and still thinks—that that’s a lot of trust to instill in a twenty-one year old. He barely knows where he’s going in life, let alone answers to the moral question of time travel in his personal timeline. 

The older he gets, though, the more he’s grateful for his dad not to give him rules. While there is seemingly no _Butterfly Effect_, being able to go at Travelling by his own pace proved to be beneficial. Misfortunes happened, as they do, but nothing caused by Travelling. 

His dad was right about him knowing when it was right for him to Travel or not, but every once in a while he would find himself at an impasse. 

He finds himself at one right now, as he wakes up from a nap. He won’t Travel for the sake of his—former—job, but his brain won’t let it go. 

There’s a crick in his neck from sleeping on the small loveseat and his living room is dark. He must have been asleep for a while. It’s getting close to summer and the days are getting longer. 

He sighs, sitting up and stretching. Phil sits on his sofa, looking out at the city where it lights up the night sky. 

He doesn’t want to think. Not tonight. Maybe not ever, if he can avoid it.

So he gets up and changes out of his work clothes into jeans and a t-shirt, quickly fixing his hair into a quiff before grabbing his keys and stepping out of the house, the bar down the road on his mind. 

*

The bar is relatively full when he gets to it, but he quickly snags an empty seat at the bar, ordering the fruitiest drink off their cocktail menu. 

He sips his drink when he gets it, looking around the bar. He might try and pull tonight. It’s a sure way to get his mind off of things, and he knows right now there isn’t much he’d say no to, at least not upon first glance. 

This is fresh in his mind when a cute guy sits down next to him as soon as the person sat there previous got up. 

He’s stupid cute. Exactly Phil’s hopeless type, all dark brown hair and doe-eyed. 

Which is exactly why he immediately looks away when the man finishes ordering his drink—a strawberry margarita—a glances at Phil, catching his eye. 

The man’s eyes flick down for a moment before looking back at Phil’s face. He smiles, and it’s nice, if not a little nervous. But before Phil can even think of saying anything the man sheepishly looks away. _Alright then_.

The bartender comes back with the man's drink and Phil orders a second round of his own. 

"I wouldn't mind if you put some extra sweetener in there too," Phil says, watching the bartender roll his eyes as he nods at his request. 

As the bartender walks away, the man glances at him again, this time not shying away when Phil catches his eye. 

“I like your shirt. Fun game.” he says, and Phil glances down. 

He’s wearing his Katamari shirt. If he’d actually had a second thought before leaving the house, he wouldn’t have worn it to the pub, and definitely not to pull. 

But this guy, this cute guy who happened to sit next to him, who happens to be Phil’s type, who’s giving him a small, sheepish smile—he _knows_ what it is and he seems to like it.

“Yeah?” he asks. “You play it?”

The man nods. “Found it in the vintage section of this game store in London. Very weird, but also very fun.” 

“Glad you think so,” Phil says. “Otherwise I’d have to move somewhere else. Can’t be seen with someone who hates Katamari, after all.” 

It’s a lame joke, but to Phil’s surprise, the man laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard all day. Phil doesn’t want to think about what kind of boring life the man must lead if it is.

“I just,” the man starts when he notices Phil looking at him. “I just get the sentiment is all. I spend my free time playing an MMO, and when I’m not doing that I’m probably playing another game.”

When Phil doesn’t say anything fast enough, the man continues. “God, sorry, that’s probably a weird thing to dump on you, seeing as we only just met. I’m Dan, by the way.” 

He holds out his hand and Phil shakes it. “Phil. And not weird.” 

Phil notices that the bartender stopped by with his drink while they were chatting. He lets go, grabbing it and taking a sip. 

“Not weird?” The man—Dan—asks, watching him. 

He shakes his head. “No, definitely not weird. Not to me at least. I mean, who’s the one wearing the t-shirt right?” 

Dan laughs again, and it makes Phil smile. 

Maybe going to the bar wasn’t the worst idea he’s ever had. 

*

Talking to Dan is so _easy_, and not even because they’re drinking. It feels like he’s known him for ages. Like he’s just walked into Phil’s life being the perfect person to slot into it. 

They share another round. Which turns into two, and then three, and then four, and then the bartender looks wary at their request for another round. 

Phil asks for waters then, which the bartender swiftly supplies. 

They sip their water, pausing the conversation that Phil isn’t sure he exactly remembers what it was about at this point. Too many topic changes, from video games to music to youtube to—

“Uni!” Phil exclaims out loud. “We were talking about uni. And Childhood.” 

Dan sips his water, noticeably pausing before speaking. “Were we? Hmm. Anyway, I think I need some air if we’re going to be drinking water.” 

He slips off the stool, patting himself down, and slinks on unsteady feet out of the bar. 

Phil, against his better judgement—though he can probably just Travel tomorrow morning to see what would happen if he chose the opposite—takes a final gulp of water, and stumbles after Dan. 

*

Following Dan leads him to a nearby park. Dan sits on a bench, and Phil sits next to him. 

“I needed out of there,” Dan says after a moment. “Felt too uh. Hot. Too much. Loud. All that.”

“Oh. I get that.” And Phil does. Dan just nods. 

The air around them is warm, warmer than Phil would expect but he keeps forgetting it’s nearly summer. A horn blares in the distance, and he thinks he can hear a siren wailing. Someone shrieks and laughs, and Phil thinks this is just what a city is like. Quiet without ever actually being quiet.

“I’m not good with uni. Or childhood shit.” Dan says after a moment. The siren stops. 

“I’m sorry.” He says, because he doesn’t really know what else to say.

“‘S fine. I’m getting over it. It’s just the looks my fucking parents give me. I can’t take it. And now they know I’m actually gay—”

He stops himself, but Phil picks up right where he left off. 

“I get it. The gay thing. I was outed and—fuck it felt like the end of the world, and my parents are at least fine with it but my granddad...that first year he couldn’t even look at me. When he came round for Christmas, he only talked to my brother. My successful, straight brother with a lovely girlfriend and a stable job and a proper degree, and fuck even a proper side hobby.” 

Dan doesn’t say anything. 

“I’m sorry,” Phil says again. “That was presumptuous of me, and—”

“No,” He stops him. “No, it’s fine. It’s good to know you’re not alone, right? Even as adults. Because...because neither of us are exactly kids anymore are we? We’re told to grow up. Get our shit together. Make sure it all works out because mummy and daddy won’t be there.”

“Yeah…” Phil thinks he has more to say, but he can’t really grasp it right now. Not with his belly and blood sloshing with alcohol, and more than he’d usually indulge in. He just thinks about losing his job, and what his mum is going to say when he tells her, and what his dad will think, and how Martyn fits into all of this. 

And how being single and gay does, too. 

He wishes he could buy his life like a fancy new house. Pick and choose all the bits that make up the interior and exterior, furnish it the way he likes, maybe add a few nice bits and bobs to it. And then just live it. It would be perfect. It wouldn’t have room for fuck ups. And maybe he can already do that. He can just Travel and fix everything. 

But he couldn’t fix anything with Charlie. No amount of Travelling could fix it. No amount could fix this, either. And if he went back to every first date, every time he’s pulled, it wouldn’t fix his lack of partner either. 

Sometimes things just aren’t meant to be, no matter how painful it feels when it breaks and how desperately you want to mend it. Because you can’t buy the perfect life, and the universe has more control than anyone can even properly fathom.

It’s a depressing thought, Phil thinks. 

“I’m drunk, you know, but… but sometimes, I just don’t really feel like a person.” Dan says, taking him away from his thoughts.

“You don’t?” Phil asks, welcoming the distraction from him.

Dan shakes his head. “It’s just—what the fuck even is a person? I don’t know. It kind of haunts me. How do I know if I’m even doing this right? I just—I feel like a collection of interests, a few feelings here and there.” 

“I know what it’s like to feel lost,” he says. “To not know where to go next, or what to do.”

“It’s like...being lost permanently. Fundamentally. Like you don’t belong anywhere because there’s nothing constant in your person, let alone your life.” 

Phil doesn’t like hearing this. It’s foreign to him, almost like a culture-shock. He thrives on constants, on routines, on being able to plan ahead and control what happens to avoid...well, to avoid things like what happened earlier today. He sighs.

“I hate change. I can’t even handle the smallest, insignificant bit of it, like the shops discontinuing my favourite sweet.”

“Change is in there too, I think. Constants can be grounding, if you have them.” Dan shakes his head again. “But then the thing is: if I don’t even know how to be a person, is change really all that scary? Does it really matter at the end of all this.” 

Something twists in Phil’s gut when he says this. Maybe he doesn’t understand exactly what he’s feeling, but the words resonate. 

“We’re all just chugging along, aren’t we? From place to place, home to work, work to home. Trying to live the life we want to live. Change comes in there and messes it all up, I think.” 

Dan gives him a funny look. “Yeah, you might be right about that. Maybe that’s what being a person is, in this miserable world.” 

“Ever the pessimist, aren’t you Dan?” 

“I wouldn’t be myself without it.” He smirks, and then it falters, like he doesn’t quite believe it. 

“But it’s weird, though,” Dan continues. “The times when I feel like I’m okay enough to be a person, where I do things a person would do, everything goes to shit. It’s hard not to wonder what it would be like with a time machine. Would my parents have taken my coming out the same way if I had a boyfriend when I did it? If I did it at a different time? Would they have been the same about me dropping out of uni? I don’t know. I wish I did.”

“I wish you did too, Dan. Life can be bloody unfair.”

“It can be.”

As they sit together in silence, Phil wishes he could tell Dan that a time machine exists in every fibre of his being. That he can go back and do everything over if he wanted to, or change things to be more favourable. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t know Dan very well. Doesn’t even know him enough to be able to help him in the way he wants to. So he settles on commiseration, and listening. Dan evidently seems to be okay with that.

As they sit, he notices how warm it is for the time of year. Summer is right around the corner after all, Phil supposes.

“So,” Dan says eventually, bumping his shoulder into Phil’s. “I have a question. Something I might not ask if I still wasn’t completely fucking pissed off my tits right now, but something I’d want to ask anyway.” 

“What?” 

“Can I—can I kiss you?” He ducks his head after he asks, bashful. 

_Fuck_, Phil thinks. And it’s a good kind of fuck. 

“One of us was gonna have to say it huh?” 

They laugh together, quiet and gentle. Dan leans forward and Phil cups a hand around his jaw. 

The kiss is sloppy, a little gross in the way that most drunk kisses are, and tasting of tequila and sweet juice. 

“I don’t live too far from here,” Phil says when they break apart. “Did you—?” 

“Yeah,” Dan says, not even letting Phil finish. “Yes. Please.” 

*

They don’t waste time when they arrive at Phil’s flat, kissing and sucking and grabbing at each other. 

Phil doesn’t know if it’s because he’s drunk and these always work out better when you’ve had a few, but he thinks there are few things as nice in the world as kissing down Dan’s neck and feeling goosebumps rise as he continues to kiss lower. 

He guides them through his flat, lips still pressed to Dan’s neck, until they reach his bedroom. He leads Dan to the end of his bed, backing him up until he knows his calves hit the bed. 

Phil’s foot catches on the little rug near the end of his bed and he falls rather ungracefully onto Dan. 

“Oh fuck,” He hears Dan say, groaning. Phil sputters out an apology, all while managing to elbow him in the stomach. _Twice_. 

“Shit, I—fuck okay, give me a second?” Phil doesn’t wait for a response before running into his small, dark bathroom. Dan is calling after him as he shuts the door. Anxiety courses through him as he Travels back to when they entered his flat. 

He doesn’t want to fuck things up with Dan, even if they’re drunk, even if they might never see each other again. Dan is just—so _nice_ and he makes Phil feel comfortable. It’s not often he finds people like that, or that they almost literally walk right into his life. 

Phil carefully leads them back into his room, kissing Dan in all the spots he did the first time around before getting him back onto the bed. 

They break apart and Dan crawls backwards onto the bed, face flushed and eyes shining. Phil follows him with haste, making sure to check for the rug this time. He presses his lips to his again, sloppily, before trailing his kisses down Dan’s body. 

His fingers wiggle their way between Dan’s body and the waist of his jeans, feeling around until he finds the button. Dan groans, carding his fingers through Phil’s hair. 

“Go on then,” Dan says breathlessly when Phil looks up at him, toying with the button on his jeans. 

Phil doesn’t need to be told twice. They both push down Dan’s pants, laughing at their clumsy, drunken movements. Eventually his pants are far enough down for Phil to get his mouth on him, licking and sucking and relishing in the sounds Dan is making. 

It’s a slow process, both heightened and dimmed through Phil’s inebriation. He feels trapped in some kind of euphoric haze, the scent of sex and heat and laughter filling his bedroom. 

They're clumsy, but Phil thinks that's nice. Nicer than a quick fuck with a stranger. He needed to laugh tonight. Needed to get a few things out. 

Sometimes, Phil gets too attached. It’s what happened with Charlie, what happened when he was crippled with anxious homesickness at uni, and what defined how painful it was for his parents to sell his childhood home. 

They’re all _things_, tangible things that are no doubt going to change and shift because Phil knows that’s what life is about. But when immediate comforts come his way he latches on and doesn’t ever want to let go. It makes the actual, inevitable letting go part much harder. He doesn’t like to think about things coming to an end, but they all do.

Before he can spin himself deeper into an anxious tizzy, Dan makes him come, shooting whte stripes across his bare chest. 

It makes Phil forget, in that tingly, warm post-orgasm pleasure, that nothing feels right. 

At least nothing outside this moment and the two of them in this room, sweaty and sticky and breathing out with exhaustion, slow and heavy. 

*

Phil’s head pounds at a steady beat when he eventually rolls over, opening his eyes. His room is too bright, and he feels panic shoot quick and sharp through his chest about being late for work before relaxing into dread, knowing that he doesn’t have a job to go to anymore. 

He sits up, shoving on his glasses and pushing off the covers. As he swings one leg over the side of the bed, he realizes he’s naked. It’s hardly unusual for Phil to be naked, but memories of the previous day come swirling back to him. And memories of Dan. 

Phil glances back at his bed, empty apart from himself. 

“No,” Phil groans, wincing as his head throbs harder. 

It’s weird, really, to find himself missing a stranger. But he misses Dan, and he’s angry that someone like him, someone who he thought he really connected with would just sneak out. Maybe that’s why Phil doesn’t do one night stands. He gets too attached to people. Especially pretty brown haired boys, he thinks, memories of Charlie surfacing. _No_.

After pulling on the first pair of loose joggers he finds, he stumbles into the bathroom in search of painkillers, thanking past Phil for keeping them at the front of the medicine cabinet. 

Walking into the kitchen, two ibuprofen tablets in hand, he notices a torn piece of pokemon stationery on the counter. He doesn’t remember leaving anything there, or even the last time he used the notepad it came from. He ignores the way his stomach twists at the thought of who could have left the note as he gets a glass of water, downing the painkillers. 

Phil picks up the note as he drains the last bit of water. The writing is narrow and messy, and it takes Phil’s pounding head a moment to decipher it. 

_Sorry I had to run. I didn’t want to, but I have to catch a train. I’d love to see you again, maybe sober this time? Text me :) Dan _

Dan’s number is written below his name, and Phil has to force himself to put down the note and walk away. 

He ends up on his sofa, staring at the doors to the balcony. 

Phil doesn’t know how long he sits there for, but eventually he forces himself up, ass numb and legs starting to fill with pins and needles. 

He walks into his bedroom and picks up his phone, opening the keypad. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he thinks. And thinks and thinks and thinks. It’s useless thinking, though. Back and forth for no reason because he knows the piece of pokemon stationary will stay on the kitchen counter and his keypad will stay empty. 

He swipes it away and brings up his contacts, calling his mum without a second thought. 

“Child.” 

“Hi Mum,” Phil says, swinging his legs onto the bed and resting against the pillows. 

“What’s wrong, love?” 

He laughs. “How do you know something’s wrong?” 

“A mother always knows,” She says, also laughing. “No, I can hear it in your voice. What’s happened?” 

Phil pauses before speaking. He loves his mum and knows that she’ll never truly be disappointed in him, but he doesn’t want to hear the sadness in her voice, doesn’t want to deal with the fact that she’ll tell his dad and he’ll have to face the disappointment from him. He doesn’t want to deal with anything right now. 

“I got laid off yesterday,” he sighs. 

“Oh Phil,” she sounds sad. Sad in the exact way he thought she would sound and it doesn’t feel good. 

“I’m sorry, love. Can you—can you, well, you know.” 

Phil laughs humorlessly. “I thought about it, but I don’t think it’ll change anything. Not unless I want to change my whole life around.” 

“Well, maybe this is a sign from the universe that you should take a break.” 

“That would be a nice silver lining, wouldn’t it?” 

“Don’t be that way, Phil. You deserve a break. Maybe you should come breathe in that sea air. Come visit your mum and dad even.” 

He’s not surprised she offered. She always wants him to come up, and he thinks that’s why he called her. To get away from this flat, from this city, from the last 24 hours. 

“Yeah.” 

“It’s not the end of the world, love,” she says gently. “Just a pause. A bit of change.” 

He hums in agreement, shutting his eyes. 

“Come up for a visit. Your father and I would love to see you.” 

It would be nice. It would be idyllic. He wouldn’t have to think about life if he doesn’t want to. 

Phil sighs quietly. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll look up flights and stuff, and I’ll get back to you?” 

“Sounds good, love. We’re always happy to have you, anytime. It’s our job too, you know.” 

“Yeah, Mum, I know. Thank you.”

He hangs up not too long after that and books the first trip out for the following morning. 

When he texts his mum the details she sends back paragraph about how happy she is. He’s so grateful that he has her, but it doesn’t feel good to run away. But maybe she’s right. Maybe he does need a break.

*

His first week on the Isle passes by uneventfully. 

He’s welcomed home with a hug from his mum and enough cakes to feed an army. His dad pats him on the shoulder but otherwise leaves him be. He thinks there’s some tension there, but he tries not to pay it any attention. He didn’t come here to feel worse about himself. 

Luckily, Mum keeps him busy enough. They hike and visit different shops and little markets. She takes him places he hasn’t been to since he was really little and they only came here to visit his grandparents. She even lets him in the kitchen to help with little things she knows he can’t mess up. (And besides slipping and dropping a carton of eggs, he doesn’t.) It’s nice. It’s peaceful. It’s exactly what he needed. 

He spends a lot of time on his own too, sitting on mossy cliffsides and drinking in the salty sea air. Late spring shifts into early summer during his first week, the scent of the sea getting stronger as the days get warmer. Waves crash against the coastline, rippling when the wind picks up harder. 

It’s nice to watch. Relaxing, really, for how chaotic the ocean can be. For time spent on his own in a place where he’s supposed to be distracting himself from his thoughts, being by the sea as the seasons change is rather mindless. Instead of getting trapped in anxious spirals, he focuses on trying not to fall down the side of a cliff and on the minute details of the nature around his parents' house. He justifies it by hoping it’ll give him a better understanding of how to care for his plants at home, but he knows it actually won’t. But it’s an extremely useful distraction.

Two days into his second week there his phone buzzes in his pocket. He’s sitting on the cliffside closest to the house, head resting on his knees where they’re folded up against his chest. The waves are calm today; there isn’t much of a breeze. It pairs well with the seemingly endless blue sky. 

Phil pulls his phone out of his pocket, already knowing who the text is from without having to look at the sender’s name. It’s his mum. 

_Come back in. We’re heading to the market, might be nice to get around some other people again. Lots of interesting trinkets at the market too_

She’s the only one who’s been texting him lately, calling him in for dinner, checking in to make sure he hasn’t actually fallen off a cliff or gotten lost. It makes him feel like a child, but he knows that’s his own doing. He could have called friends. Could have even texted Dan. But he defaulted back to his parents, like he always does. They’re comfortable. And Phil loves them. And he knows that to keep everything from completely crumbling around him, comfort is what he needs. 

He sighs, stretching his legs out in front of him. Part of him really wants to play the bratty teenager card, pushing the time as close as he can until his mum calls him—or worse, comes to find him and drag him back to the house. 

But he doesn’t. He’s twenty-seven, not seventeen, and he doesn’t want to give his parents another reason to watch over him. For as much as he feels like a child, he doesn’t want to keep being treated like one. Not right now. So he gets up and makes his way back to the house. 

*

The market is cute. Cute in the way that small town markets always are, filled with crafts and handmade items and a lot of stuff Phil doesn’t know why anyone would ever need—like the older couple selling small, hand-carved wooden boats—but clearly business isn’t too terrible for them to have a stall open. 

He’s fiddling with some artisan soap when a voice that definitely does not belong to his mum or dad is calling his name. 

He turns and sees—fuck. _Dan_. 

Dan from the bar Dan. Dan from the park bench Dan. Dan from the fucking one night stand Dan. Dan who left his number before leaving the next morning Dan. 

Fuck. 

He thinks about Travelling, about making sure he doesn’t actually come out with his parents, about being in a completely different part of the market, far, far away from Dan. 

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t because the part of him that wants to keep talking to this man who he feels like he’s known forever but was truly only a one night stand is much louder than the fear bubbling in his chest. 

So he turns around, letting shock colour his expression. “Dan?”

“I knew it was you!” Dan says, walking towards him. He’s grinning, all dimples and soft brown curls. 

A small woman follows him, a pleasant expression on her face. She looks kind of like him, and Phil smiles when she catches his eye. 

“What are you doing here, of all places?” Dan asks, sounded marveled. 

“My uh, my parents live here. I’ve been visiting them for the last week.” He says, the words coming out shakier than he’d like them to. “What about you?”

“Me and Mum,” he gestures to the woman at his side. “Have decided to take a little getaway trip together. Do art for bonding and all that stuff.” 

“Daniel,” she says. “You’re awfully good at making it sound like we despise each other. We don’t, by the way, we just don’t see each other enough...um?”

“Oh! Phil,” he supplies for her. 

“Ah, Phil. Lovely to meet you, I’m Karen.” She smiles in a way he knows only mums can, with warmth and kindness in such a welcoming way. “How do you two know each other? I don’t think you’ve mentioned a Phil before, Dan.” 

There’s a pause, Dan glancing at Phil, before he speaks. 

“Phil’s from Manchester, Mum. Old friend.” 

The lie doesn’t really faze Phil. He’s not sure he wants his own mum to know who he’s having one night stands with. (Though, Phil thinks, maybe to Dan this was supposed to be something more. He probably doesn’t blame Phil for not texting right away, but he left his number after all.)

“Oh how nice. Always lovely to bump into old friends.”

“Sure Mum.” Dan looks relieved as he says this, almost as if he wasn’t sure she was going to believe him.

“Well, I’ll let you two catch up? Come find me in five, Daniel. We have reservations in about twenty minutes.” She smiles at them, pats Dan’s shoulder, and starts to walk off. 

“Yep, Mum. Don’t go too far! Can’t be losing you.” 

Phil watches her shake her head, not looking back at them. 

“What a coincidence,” Dan says as soon as Karen is out of earshot. “Seeing you here.”

“Yeah. Almost like you’ve been put here just to haunt me,” he jokes, and Dan laughs that big laugh he remembers from the bar. 

“You wish, Phil.” 

He smiles so widely at him, and Phil knows in his heart that he’s going to be seeing a lot more of Dan after this. 

“How long are you here for?” He asks. 

“Another six days. It’s our first day here, actually.”

“What a coincidence,” Phil repeats. 

Dan nods. “I’m glad it’s you, though, of all people to be here. I’ve found it hard not to think about the time we spent together. Mostly if I’ve made a massive arse out of myself, but also…”

“Also?” he asks when Dan trails off. 

“You know, I really don’t want my mum getting lost anywhere. I should go find her. Maybe we’ll be bumping into each other again? Like here, tomorrow, maybe just after noon?” 

His boldness surprises Phil, but he finds himself agreeing all the same. 

“See you then,” Dan says, smiling wide, and then he’s off in pursuit of his mum. 

Phil doesn’t know what he’s just ended up signing himself up for, but...he thinks he likes it. He definitely wants to see Dan more and maybe this time he should just let the pieces fall into place as he goes. 

It’s a change he can welcome for the next six days.

*

They end up doing more than “bumping into each other” while Dan is here. They hang out and talk like they’ve known each other for years, and kiss and get each other off. And laugh. They do a lot of laughing together.

Phil thinks that when Dan isn’t with his mum, he spends all his time with him. 

Not that he’s complaining. Quite the opposite, really, he loves the company. Loves to talk to someone who gets it.

The thing is, Dan terrifies him. He makes him afraid of deviating from what he knows is objectively right, of doing things that he would never normally indulge in. 

And Dan terrifies him simply because he’s not Charlie, because Charlie was safe, above all. He’s not like any other relationship he’s had. He’s nothing like anything Phil’s ever experienced, and he doesn’t know if he wants to take the leap. 

But because being on the Isle feels so liminal, so lacking in real space and time, Phil takes the leap here. Just to try it out. 

What harm could that do?

*

They go out for dinner. Phil’s parents are having a date night—Dan calls it cute—and Karen told Dan to go out. 

“I swear, we go on a bonding trip and she’s still trying to get rid of me,” Dan says as they walk through town. “‘Go out and have fun Daniel!’, ugh please.”

“Have you told her about me?” Phil asks innocently, holding the door to the restaurant open for Dan.

He narrows his eyes at Phil. “What are you getting at, Lester?”

“Nothing! Just wondering.” 

He likes the idea that Dan might be talking about him. Especially to his mum. 

“You think you’re so bloody clever, huh?” 

He smiles. “So you have told her about me!”

Dan scowls. 

*

“In another universe,” Dan says that night, flattening his palm against Phil’s. They’re laying in Phil’s bed mostly naked, and his parents haven’t come back from their date yet. “We’re in this exact position. But some things are different. Maybe we’re girls. Maybe we never met in Manchester. Maybe we met in Manchester, but it was a long, long time ago and we’ve been together ever since. Maybe this is our first time together.”

His words make Phil’s breath hitch, an exciting kind of fear. The idea of being with someone, of Dan voicing that they could be together, that this moment is inevitable, no matter what. It’s terrifying, but thrilling. 

“You’re a romantic, Dan,” Phil says, rolling so he’s pinning Dan to the bed, thighs encasing his hips. 

“Maybe I am,” he smiles. “I’ve never been told that by someone who I’ve actually wanted to be romantic with.”

“I like it. And I like how you make me feel.”

It’s honest, maybe too honest for the moment, but Dan doesn’t seem to mind. 

In fact, it seems quite the opposite of that, as he reaches up to twine his fingers in Phil’s hair. 

“Let’s do it then. Let’s just fucking go for it Phil, you and me.” 

“I’d love to,” Phil says, but he doesn’t promise. He can’t promise. He knows he can’t. 

Dan kisses him, and he kisses him back, reaching back down to where he’s been most of the night after coming home, getting a hand in Dan’s pants. 

*

On Dan’s last day here, Phil asks him out on a hike. 

“Do you want us to die? Do you want _me_ to die?” Dan said, but immediately agreed. 

There was something hanging in the air about it being Dan’s last day. Like it’s something to hold onto because nothing will ever be the same after it. 

(Though Phil would never tell Dan he could just relive it over and over again. Hell, he could change it if he wanted to. But he won’t. He won’t Travel. Not now.)

*

Phil does end up Travelling, as the day goes on. But only because both of them manage to almost fall off the side of the cliffs they’re climbing, and Phil trips hard enough to rip a hole in his jeans.

Eventually, they make it to the end of the trail in one piece. The sun is starting to set, casting them in a yellowish glow. 

The end of the hike opens to a flat, mossy expanse of cliff, and Phil takes the flannel blanket out of his backpack and lays it out for them. He tosses down a couple mini crisp packets and haribo. Dan sits down with a flask. 

“Malibu.” Dan says at his questioning look. “What’s a hike without getting tabled at the end of it?” 

“We are not getting tabled on a cliff, Dan.” He sits down next to him, taking a few swigs of the sickly sweet alcohol. 

“Well, it takes the edge off all that climbing at least.” 

Phil can’t argue with that. 

They sit, talking about nothing and joking about. It’s comfortable, and Phil feels relaxed. He tries not to think about Dan leaving tomorrow, and this being gone. He tries even harder not to think about Traveling. 

So instead he preoccupies himself with food. 

“Haribo?” Phil offers, holding the bag up to Dan. 

“Starmix,” Dan notes, sitting cross legged next to him and digging a hand into the bag. “Surprised you’re sharing sweets with me, Mr. Sugar Hoarder.” 

“Shut it,” he says, nudging him.

“I’m more of a tangfastics guy myself,” Dan says. 

He pulls out a sweet, smiling as he looks down at it. 

“Would you look at that,” Dan says, holding it up. “Two rings stuck together. Must be fate.” 

“Fate? In what way?” 

“Phil Lester,” he splays a hand across his chest in mock horror. “Are you telling me you’ve never heard of what happens when you pull two rings out of your starmix at the same time?” 

“No?” 

“You have to get _married_.” 

“You’re so dumb,” Phil laughs, shoving him. 

Dan laughs, too. “I’m serious! Let’s get married right now. We have rings. We have each other. Might as well. See what it’s like. Might solve a few things for us, huh?” 

Phil couldn’t deny, in his slightly inebriated state, that it did sound nice. Dan is nice. Being married—fake married—to him would be nice. 

So he takes the jelly ring from his outstretched hand, watching Dan smile. His eyes are bright, illuminated like amber by the golden glow from the setting sun.

“With this ring,” Dan says, holding up the sweet. “I thee wed.” 

It’s dramatic in a way that makes Phil want to laugh, but he just copies Dan. 

“With this ring, I thee wed.” 

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part.” 

“To...ditto.” Phil says, and Dan laughs loudly. 

“How do you remember all that?” Phil asks, letting Dan take his left hand. 

“Went to Sunday School as a kid,” He slides the ring onto Phil’s finger. It doesn’t go past the second knuckle. “And I have a good memory when I need it.”

Phil copies him, and they twine their fingers together after. 

“So...I do. Do you?” Dan says. 

“I definitely do.”

“I guess this is the part where we kiss?” 

“How scandalous Daniel!” 

Dan shakes his head, and leans in. 

The kiss is chaste, at least compared to all the other kisses they’ve shared before this. 

“So we’re married now?” Phil asks when they pull apart. 

Dan nods. He smiles, and they don’t say anything after that. They both turn to watch the setting sun sparkle across the water, the gold shifting into something dark and very orange. 

Dan breaks the silence. “This is weird, isn’t it?”

“What?” 

“I mean, our rings don’t even fit, no witnesses or officiants. Bloody back alley wedding, this is.” 

“I think there are benefits to that! First, we can eat our rings if we want. No witnesses means this can mean whatever it needs to mean for us.”

He smiles at Phil. “What a perfect nugget of wisdom that is, Philly.”

Phil shrugs. “You said it would solve a few things for us. Let’s have it do that.” 

Dan brings their intertwined hands to his lips, kissing the back of Phil’s hand. Again, neither of them say anything. 

They both know they don’t have to. 

*

It’s dark when they get back to Dan’s car—”I _promise_ I haven’t left my mum without a way to get around, Phil. She _told me_ all she wants to do tonight is relax with a book,” Dan had said when Phil questioned him on taking the car earlier. 

Their rings have been eaten, along with the rest of the bag of sweets, and the topic completely dropped. Phil still thinks he feels a shift between them since then. Something good, something worthwhile. 

When Dan drops Phil off, they kiss again. 

“You have my number? Let me know when we can see each other again.” Dan says. 

Phil nods, and they kiss once more, Phil leaning in through the driver’s window. 

As he watches Dan drive off, he thinks this is probably the best trip to the Isle in a long time, even if his chest feels full of a bittersweet warmth. 

*

The day after Dan leaves Phil wakes up early. 

The sun shines gold in the sky as he collects all his stuff from around the room and packs it into his suitcase. He showers and shaves before heading downstairs. 

“Oh Phil!” His mum says when he walks into the kitchen, clutching at her chest. She’s still in her pyjamas, a dressing gown loosely tied around her waist and a cup of tea on the table in front of her. 

“Can’t remember the last time you willingly got up this early under my roof,” she says, motioning for him to sit down as she puts the kettle on. 

“Maybe I just want to get into the habit of it,” he says, and she gives him a look as she scoops instant coffee into a mug. 

“Heading off today, then?” she asks softly. 

Phil nods. He feels bad about it, but he can’t keep putting the rest of his life on hold. “Should get back to reality.” 

The kettle chirps and she fixes his coffee just the way he likes it. 

“You know,” she says as she sets the mug down in front of him. “This can always be your reality. We will always take you in, no matter what, no matter how long.” 

“I know, Mum,” he reaches across the table and she takes his hand. “It’s just the responsible thing to do, I think.” 

She smiles at him. “I know, my love. But we all need to go away sometimes. I’m glad you came here.” 

“I’m glad I did too.” 

Later, when his dad is driving him to the airport, his phone pings with a new text. It’s Jimmy. 

_Hey! Ring me when you can? I’ll be in Man next week. We should get coffee. And I have something to ask you_

It’s been a while since he’s spoken to Jimmy. Too long, he thinks, but the best part about being friends with Jimmy is that no matter how long they go without speaking, when they connect again it’s like there was never any distance. He thinks he could use a friend like that again right now. 

“Alright,” his dad says, drawing his thoughts away from Jimmy. “We’re here.”

His dad gives him a hug as he sees him off. 

“Everything’s going to work out, Phil. I’m confident in that.” 

Phil hugs him tighter. “I hope you’re right, Dad.” 

“Have faith in your old dad,” he chuckles and pats him on the back. 

And then he’s off. And Phil goes to sit alone and wait for his flight. 

He rings Jimmy and they catch up until Phil has to get on the plane. He says a job in editing has opened up at the agency he works at, and that Phil would be a perfect fit, if he wants to move to London. 

Phil thinks about this for the entire short plane ride, and then the entire journey back to his flat in Manchester. 

As soon as he gets into his flat he drops his bags at the door and trudges into his bedroom, flopping onto the bed. 

London would be nice. Seeing Jimmy would be nice. _Working_ with Jimmy would be nice. But part of Phil doesn’t want to leave Manchester, doesn’t want to leave this reasonably priced flat in the only city he can really call home. He doesn’t want anything to change. 

He rolls over and eyes his sock drawer. Would contacting Dan help? Would seeing him again bring him ease? 

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t let himself entertain the idea. He doesn’t let himself get up and Travel, just to find out what would have happened if he texted Dan that morning after their night together. He doesn’t let himself Travel to find out what would have happened if he did it as soon as he walked in the door today. 

He lets himself ring Jimmy again, lets himself set up a time to meet for coffee next week, lets himself tell Jimmy he’s interested in the job, but don’t forget about how much he hates change and this better be worth it. He lets himself be scared, lets himself take the safest route, the one with less unknowns. 

Martyn would probably Travel to see if something would happen with Dan. So would his dad. He knows their own relationships haven’t come to be without a bit of Travelling here and there. 

But Phil doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to know because it could just be too good to be true and that would crush him. He doesn’t want to put himself in that situation on top of everything else. He already did that with Charlie. He’s not doing it again. 

So he has coffee with Jimmy. He interviews for the job and gets it. Jimmy helps him find a place in London that isn’t horrible and within his budget. His mum and dad tell him they’re proud, that they’re happy for him to take such a big step like that. 

It takes a few months, but eventually Phil’s settled. All the pieces to the life he built in Manchester have been put away in exchange for newer, bigger, shinier pieces to put together for his life in London. 

And apparently, it takes four years of building and strengthening them for the pieces to fall.


	3. part three

“Fuck, Phil,” Jimmy says. 

“I know.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jimmy asks. Phil’s thankful that he sounds more forgiving than angry. “If we talked so soon after?” 

“Everything was changing so quickly,” Phil says, looking down at his lap. “I just wanted to find that same kind of normal again. You know I don’t like change.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jimmy says quietly. “Helped you move to London, didn’t I? And out of uni, and then out of that first place in Manchester, after Charlie.” 

Phil feels a pang of guilt in his chest. He should have told Jimmy about Dan. They’re not best friends, and there was a long period of time after Jimmy moved to London and Phil moved into his second flat in Manchester where they didn’t talk as much as they should have. But they’ve always been there for each other when they need it most, all ears with no judgement.

“I’m sorry,” Phil says. “I should have told you sooner.” 

“No,” He feels Jimmy stand up. “No apologies. D’you want to get up and open the door, Phil?”

He doesn’t want to, but the stern determination in Jimmy’s voice makes him. 

His ass is numb from sitting on the tile for so long, and his fingers shake a bit as he unlocks the stall door. Jimmy’s arms are around him as soon as the door is open wide enough. 

“We’re supposed to be here for each other, yeah?” Jimmy says, pulling back. “That’s what friends are for.”

Phil nods. 

“So what are we going to do about Dan then?” 

“I—” Phil bites his lip. “It’s going to be awkward?”

“Probably. Those kinds of things always are.”

“And I’m going to talk to him?”

“Yeah.” 

“And it’s going to be okay?”

Jimmy’s gaze softens. 

“You should stop asking questions, Phil. It’s going to be okay, and you’re going to be okay, even if it’s a little awkward.”

“Right,” Phil says, giving his head a little shake. “No, you’re right.”

“Shall we then?” Jimmy asks, holding his arm out to Phil with a crooked smile on his face. 

Phil humours him, threading his arm through Jimmy’s, returning the smile as they leave the loo. 

His heart pounds when they round the corner and Phil sees the back of Dan’s head. 

It’s fine. Dan’s just a guy. Just a guy with a bit of a history with Phil, but still just a guy.

Jimmy slips his arm out of Phil’s, softly patting near his elbow, quick but reassuring. He calls out to Tom and Dan when they get closer, making Phil’s heart hiccup faster when they turn around. 

“Alright Phil?” Tom asks as they approach. His tone in kind, and the look in his eyes is kinder.

Phil knows he’s being ridiculous by training his gaze on Tom, but looking directly at Dan is only going to make it real. He thinks there’s a part of him that wants it to be real, and is ready for it to be, but his heart still feels like it’s going to leap out of his chest. 

“Yeah, I think so,” He says, offering Tom a smile. “Good to see you again.”

“You too! We really don’t see each other enough, do we?” Phil nods as Tom gestures to Dan beside him. “By the way, I’m being so rude sorry, Phil this is Dan, Dan this is Phil.” 

He forces himself to look at Dan now. 

It’s kind of startling how much he’s changed. From far away, Phil couldn’t really tell. He’s got the same features, same height and build, but he’s somehow managed to grow into them more over the last four years. He stands broader, a bit more confident, despite the awkward way he’s clutching a beer in his left hand. He’s smiling too, dimples broadly popping out. There’s some life in his eyes that Phil doesn’t think was there before. It’s good to see, so fucking good, and part of Phil pangs with guilt that if he’d gone back to change one little thing he might have been able to watch Dan grow into this person in front of him now. 

“Hi,” Phil says. It comes out as a bit of a squeak, and he feels his cheeks warm. 

“Hey,” Dan replies, still smiling. “Been a while.”

“Yeah,” Phil lets out a breathy laugh. 

“Sorry, I made it awkward, didn’t I?” Dan looks down, his smile more bashful now. 

“No, no, it’s fine,” Dan looks back up at him. “Really.”

Dan’s cheeks dimple again, and Phil feels himself smiling wide. 

Deep down, Phil’s still terrified. He feels like he’s lucky Dan is even talking to him, let alone smiling at him like that. But the conversation goes well. It’s nice to catch up with Tom, and nice to see Dan. He thinks that maybe this is the “proper” way to go about it. With kindness. Forgiveness, even.

“I should probably get going,” Phil says during a lull in the conversation. 

“Aw really?” Jimmy says, looking at him with big, sad eyes. “Surely you can stay for longer!”

“Stop giving me that look, Jim. I should get home before it gets any later.” 

“Why don’t I walk you down?” Dan asks. “I could use some air.” 

He looks genuine about it, and Phil agrees, shooting a quick, semi-coordinated kick to Jimmy’s shin when he snickers without an ounce of subtlety. 

“You wound me and our friendship, Philip,” he says.

Tom rolls his eyes. “Good to see you again, Phil. Catch you both later?” 

Dan and Phil reply amicably, Dan mentioning seeing him back at work. As they walk to the lift together, Phil thinks he really ought to see Tom more. He probably owes him something after this, and he’s lovely anyway. 

Dan hits the down button next to the lift and they wait, the quiet between them making Phil’s mind buzz. 

*

As they exit the building, Phil leads them to a bench just outside. The late October air bites, and Phil huffs out a breath, watching it swirl out of his mouth. 

They sit next to each other on the bench, silent. It’s not a comfortable silence. Unsaid words hang between them, and every few moments Phil gets the urge to say something, but loses his courage before he can even open his mouth. 

“You never called me,” Dan says. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Slipped out.” 

Relief at Dan breaking the silence releases some of the tension in Phil’s shoulders that he wasn’t entirely aware of before. 

“No, it’s okay,” Phil hesitates before continuing. “I wanted to, though.” 

“Well why didn’t you?” Dan sounds incredulous. 

“I—I was scared.”

Honesty, he thinks, must be best here. 

“Are you angry?” He asks when Dan doesn’t reply. 

“No. I just wish I had answers earlier.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. We’re here now, yeah?” 

Dan looks at him, and Phil thinks he should let himself take a chance this time. Not everyone gets second chances like this. Not even when you can take a few seconds and give yourself that second chance. 

“We are.” He smiles. 

They sit quietly for a bit, the silence far more comfortable than before. The air somehow feels warmer to Phil, and he thinks he might not be imagining the way the space between them on the bench seems smaller than when they sat down. 

“Did we actually pretend to get married with Haribo rings?” 

This makes Phil laugh. 

“We did. Probably one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever done in my life.”

“Yeah,” Dan says, chuckling. 

“Though lucky for us, it wasn’t legally binding.” 

“I don’t know Phil, you can keep telling yourself that but maybe all this time I’ve been waiting to find my long lost husband again.” 

Fear spikes in Phil’s chest again. It still feels like taking a risk, even though it’s been four years and he’s comfortable with where he is. Comfortable enough to welcome change, even though it still scares him. 

“You scare me.” He says, tone lacking any of humour it previously held. 

Dan’s expression softens, apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

“‘S alright,” Phil says, a small spark of courage mixing with the tightness in his chest. “I think I’m ready to embrace being scared.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They’re quiet again. A thought itches in the back of Phil’s mind, waiting to be said. Phil sucks in a breath, this time being the first one breaking the silence. 

“I kept it,” Phil says. 

“What?”

“Your note. I still have it.” He stares down at his shoes. 

“You—really? Why?” 

“I told you. I wanted to call you. I was just too scared. Too worried that our time together _would_ end up being too good to be true.”

“You know, I thought the same thing,” Dan says gently. He looks back up at him. There’s a playful look in his eyes behind the softness, lighting up the amber in them. 

“And you know what else?” Dan continues, expression brightening with every word. “I reckon we should each call a taxi home, and I think you should make use of that note.” 

Phil doesn’t expect this, not when they haven’t really talked through what happened between them. But maybe that’s the point. Sometimes forgiveness and understanding have to happen first to be able to move into discussion, and then growth. 

“If you want to still, that is,” Dan adds quickly when Phil doesn’t reply immediately.

“I just—I usually get the tube home,” Phil says. “Do you want me to wait with you for your taxi?”

Dan’s face shifts from something stricken with worry to confusion to a small smile, relief in his eyes. It makes Phil really want to lean forward and kiss between his brows until he relaxes, calm.

“I—okay. Yes. Please.” 

*

When Phil steps into his flat a little while later, he tosses his keys onto the kitchen counter, speed walking into his bedroom. 

He tries to calm down the sudden excitement in his chest, but fails, pulling open his sock drawer with shaky hands. 

It takes him mere seconds to fish out the note. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, typing in Dan’s number. 

He ponders on what to say for a moment, typing out things and immediately deleting them. Eventually he settles on something neutral, something he thinks he can’t go wrong with. 

_Hey. This is Phil :)_

Dan texts him back almost immediately. 

_my long lost husband at last_   
_hi phil :)_

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from "If I Get High" by Nothing But Thieves. 
> 
> you can like/reblog this on [tumblr](https://obsessivelymoody.tumblr.com/post/189971761522/meet-you-at-the-divide-rating-m-word-count-12k) if you want.


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